


Kiss Away Your Pain Tonight

by lukeinallhisglory



Series: Muke [12]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Declarations Of Love, Emotions, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Love, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Self-Esteem Issues, Shameless Smut, Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-08 23:03:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11091753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lukeinallhisglory/pseuds/lukeinallhisglory
Summary: The one where Michael is not perfect, but Luke's pretty adamant that he doesn't care.





	Kiss Away Your Pain Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> Half of this is very old, so I'm kind of relieved to finally be publishing it. I hope you enjoy it, and I'm very sorry that I'm procrastinating my long one, that's just who I am.  
> This is purely fiction, blah, blah, blah...  
> Title from "You Light My Fire" by Nate Ruess

As much as loving Michael was effortless and perfect at times, it was also exhausting and complicated at others. Michael is multifaceted, talented, funny and beautiful, but he’s also loud, virtually filter-less, sometimes completely fake, and has his moments of insecurity. I was always aware of all of these things, before I had even figured myself out enough to really fall in love with him, and way before we started dating. Michael always had this irrational fear that if I didn’t love him, no one would. I thought the opposite, that if it wasn’t me, it would be someone else, and that would destroy me.

Being his came with a lot of perks though, some of them took place between the sheets, and some of them involved the depth of his mind and the verbalization of his feelings for me.

“Lukey,” he whispered. We’d said goodnight ten minutes ago, both of us close to falling asleep.

“Mm?” I mumbled back.

“How tired are you?” he asked, hand splaying out over my stomach.

I laughed, wriggling myself closer into him, feeling his erection against my ass. “What’s got you so worked up, Mike?” I smirked, turning over to face him.

“You. Always.” He whispered, pressing his lips to mine. I didn’t need anything else, just his lips and his promises, and I could feel my love for him blooming in my chest, threatening to stop my heart.

“You need me to take care of you?”

“Mmm,” he whined desperately, fingers skimming down my stomach, into my sweatpants. “You’re not wearing any underwear,” he murmured, grinning against my cheek.

“No-ope,” I tried to sound casual but my breath hitched as his hand wrapped around my cock and slid, slow and warm, along it until I was fully hard and leaking into my pants.

“Come on, Lukey,” he whispered, low and rough.

He laid back and I rolled on top of him, pulling a little _oof_ out of him. I kissed him, soft and wanting, lacing our fingers, not bothering to hold myself up over him. After a little while I reached down to take his boxers off, tossing them aside. “You’re so beautiful,” I told him.

“At the moment I just look desperate, I know that, Luke, you don’t have to tell me I’m beautiful.”

I sighed, thumbs coming up to rub at his jaw. “You, Michael, are so beautiful it hurts sometimes. And if I didn’t think so, I wouldn’t say it.”

“You just love me.”

“What’s love got to do with it?”

He laughed because I was quoting Tina Turner. “You’re biased.”

“You’re gorgeous.”

He was blushing, avoiding looking at me. “I appreciate that, but-“

I sat up and stripped off my sweatpants, letting my erection spring free. “This is all for you, Mikey. You did this.”

“That’s different.”

“No, it’s not,” I murmured, frowning at him.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, pulling me down to kiss him again. “I’m sorry, I’m ruining the mood,” he whispered against my lips.

“I’m still hard, you?”

He chuckled. “Yeah.”

“So I think we’re still good to go.”

“I love you,” he whispered, almost a question, begging for a very specific answer.

“Yeah, more than anything, Michael. Of course I love you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry, just love me.”

“I do love you.”

“Then we’re good,” I grinned and went back to kissing him, now that we were both completely naked and feeling a little fuzzy and raw emotionally.

There weren’t a lot of moments where Michael dropped his façade and presented himself as completely vulnerable, but when he did, it was usually late at night. He also knew that when he feigned confidence it rarely encouraged me to have sex with him. Mostly because the few times that I’d let him keep up an act in these moments, it usually left us both feeling a little wrong afterwards. It had been 4 years, and if he couldn’t admit to me that he didn’t think he was as beautiful as I told him he was, then I wouldn’t be able to properly convince him.

I sat between his legs, hands on his hips, laying him out in front of me. “Mike?” I looked up at him and he nodded a little desperately. “Straight for it, or what?”

“Anything you want,” he said breathlessly.

I dipped down and kissed a line up from his belly button, to his chest, up his neck, his jaw and met his lips again, practically begging him to touch me, raking blunt nails over the hot skin of his hips, his waist, his thighs. He got the message, probably because after 4 years the message was memorized, not because it was clear. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me up level with him, kissing me, and pulling me closer.

“Luke,” he murmured, teeth pulling at my bottom lip, hands gripping the dip of my waist.

“Ok,” I whispered back, lips trailing down his jaw as I sat back between his legs again. He reached over and fumbled with the drawer for a moment before twisting back around and pushing a little bottle of lube into my hands.

“Need you,” he whispered, raking his fingers over the palm of my hand.

I didn’t say anything, just smiled and covered my fingers in lube, using my clean hand to nudge at his thigh, telling him to spread wider. When I pressed in I did it slowly, watching his face because this was probably one of my favorites. He wasn’t looking at me, his eyes scrunched shut, his mouth dropped opened, his chest heaving unevenly. Once I had him grabbing at my wrist I knew it was time to add a second finger, watching as his face twisted and he took his lip between his teeth. Unsure of exactly how to interpret that face in this level of light, I stopped and his eyes popped opened.

“Good,” he assured me, pulling me down by the shoulder to kiss him. “All good.” I kissed him softly, pushing both fingers further into him, curving up until, “Fuck,” he moaned, his hips jumping. “Good, good, good, good, good,” he promised, breathing ragged, fingers digging into my waist.

“Stop me if that changes,” I murmured, kissing him softly again because it was my job to know that he wanted to be kissed without him having to ask me for it.

It took a few minutes of gentle pressing and sliding before I felt confident in going further. Michael’s hips jerked forward every time I pressed against his prostate, groans and pleas not to stop spilling from his lips. He started panting harder and harder, his stomach heaving, and his back arching. I pulled my fingers out of him, and he let go of my wrist, panting and whining softly.

“Yeah?” I whispered, catching his fingers, running my thumb across his knuckles.

He nodded and I pressed in, feeling bright, full heat push at the edges of my vision. It was slow, the kind that could build if it was earlier in the night and all we were aiming to do was get off. This time we found something additive, even multiplicative, in the sweat and the ache. I felt my building orgasm wind and unwind in the pit of my stomach, struggling to progress with the slow pace. It felt good, hot and blurred around the edges. I could feel everything so intensely, the hitch of Michael’s breath, his nails dragging down my arm.

He let go first, the slow but incessant pace finding all the right places inside him. He pulled me in to kiss me just as it happened, not pulling away until after I’d fallen off the edge after him. I cleaned us up about as much as I was going to considering the time and lay back. Michael curled himself into me, warm breath against my neck.

“ _What’s love got to do, got to do with it?_ ” I sang, voice still airy. He started laughing, shoving my arm. “ _What’s love but a second hand emotion?_ ”

“Shut up.”

“Good ‘cause I don’t know any more lyrics.”

He laughed again. “Thank god.”

“You know, you’re right. I’ll just start repeating.”

“Oh no, please don’t.”

“ _What’s love got to do, got to do with it? What’s love but a second hand emotion?_ ”

“All done?” he asked softly, pulling me in with the clear intent to kiss me.

“Sure,” I murmured back, kissing him, shifting to lean over him, and kissing him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, I hope you liked it. Please let me know if you did with kudos and comments because I love hearing from you guys. You can click through to my other stuff if you're up for it, there's plenty more like this. Otherwise, just have a wonderful day.


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